


rhythm is gonna get you

by PeppyBismilk



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Armpit Kink, Dancer Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Inspired by Fanart, Kissing, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sweat, Trust, White Heron Cup (Fire Emblem)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25860304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeppyBismilk/pseuds/PeppyBismilk
Summary: Felix and Sylvain, after the White Heron Ball.Or, Sylvain indulges his armpit kink.Inspired by fanart.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	rhythm is gonna get you

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this gorgeous art](https://twitter.com/avarice017/status/1294084764446552064?s=21) (now with a 4th scene!!!! ❤️) by [mego (avarice017)](https://twitter.com/avarice017?s=21)

Professor Byleth had it out for Felix.

That was the only possible explanation why Felix had to endure this humiliation. The professor could have chosen anyone else to represent the Blue Lions in the White Heron Cup, but she picked him.

Under any other circumstances, he’d jump at the chance for extra sword training, but not when it came at the price of this costume. Felix could hardly believe his reflection in the mirror.

White, silky fabric hung from his body, exposing muscles and scars he tried to keep covered. It left him too vulnerable. The delicate trim didn’t suit him. It felt wrong. But if this was how he was to fight, there was no use fighting it. At least the flowing skirts left him free to move. 

He’d proven that at the White Heron Ball. The sweat still clung to his skin from dancing, collecting in droplets at the ridges of his muscles, soaking into his skirts. Felix had given it his all—what choice did he have? He could complain or he could commit. 

Okay, he could do both. 

“That was quite the show you put on.”

Felix groaned at the familiar voice. “Sylvain…”

“No, I mean it.” Two long strides and Sylvain was at his back, brushing the damp ends of his hair from his neck, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “I think this is your calling.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Felix shivered at his touch. His shoulders hunched as Sylvain leaned closer, pressed his nose to Felix’s skin. “Are you smelling me?”

“You smell good,” Sylvain said, his lips brushing the soft hairs at the back of Felix’s neck. “Your dance was captivating.”  


“I’m not one of your vapid little conquests.” Felix turned away, baring more of his neck to Sylvain even as he protested. “Your lines won’t work on me.”

“I know.” Sylvain cupped Felix’s cheek, his touch electric. “Actions say so much more.”

With a shift of his weight, they were kissing, Felix bent over Sylvain’s arm in a low dip. The drag of his lips lit flames up Felix’s spine and his tongue sparked them white hot. Felix clutched at the front of Sylvain’s uniform not because he thought he’d fall but to pull himself closer, to close the gap between their bodies like the space between their mouths. 

Wicked man that he was, Sylvain pulled back, voice raw from just the brief kiss. “I hated watching you dance.” 

“You’re such a liar,” Felix said, eyes narrowed. Withholding kisses, contradicting himself—everything Sylvain did was infuriating because it all made Felix want him more. 

“I hated it because I couldn’t touch you,” Sylvain went on. Still supporting Felix’s back, he let his other hand trail down Felix’s side. With only thin fabric between them, his touches tingled more than the starched uniforms allowed, giving Felix newfound appreciation for his attire.

“So touch me now,” he demanded, yanking Sylvain down to kiss him again, a hot press of open mouths that Sylvain immediately broke.

“I want to do more than that,” Sylvain confessed like a prayer. “I want to lick you.”

“Pervert,” Felix scoffed, though the idea pierced his brain, taking hold until he could think of nothing else. “You’re lucky I let you stick that filthy tongue of yours in my mouth at all.”

A devious grin twisted Sylvain’s face, not at all unappealing. “Where else can I stick it?” 

Felix threw his head back, eyes closed as he exposed the full length of his neck. “Go on. I know you can’t resist.” 

With a low growl, Sylvain indulged him. The tip of his tongue sent a jolt through Felix, from his collarbone to his toes. Sylvain licked a blazing path toward his ear, sucking in sync with his pulse at the patch of skin just below it. 

Only Sylvain could see him like this. Everyone else’s eyes on him in the dancer robes was a violation, something to get used to and work to his advantage, but with Sylvain it was a boon, leaving more skin to explore, to lick. 

“Is that all I can lick?” Sylvain asked, low and soft at Felix’s ear. He pressed another kiss there, and Felix could only shiver.

When Felix found his voice, it was rough. “Animal,” he hissed. It wasn’t fear that seized his stomach but perverse curiosity. Sylvain had no boundaries, and like a challenge, Felix needed to push his own. “I suppose you want to lick my…”

He couldn’t say the words, but his hands drifted between his legs. Sylvain’s eyes went wide with hunger, a look that would surely haunt and tempt Felix on lonely nights when training wasn’t enough to douse his desires. 

Sylvain coaxed him upright, one hand still pressed firmly to his lower back. He stepped behind once more and turned Felix’s head away from him and toward the mirror. Felix was surrounded: Sylvain’s breath hot at his ear, so close their bodies became one, gaze so possessive and all-encompassing that Felix felt it as surely as he saw it in Sylvain’s reflection.

“Do you trust me?” Sylvain whispered.

That question felt like dunking his head underwater, eyes closed and toes searching for the seafloor. If he said  _ yes, _ Sylvain could do anything to him. 

But Sylvain wouldn’t. He wouldn’t push Felix too far, no further than he could take, and Felix had his answer.

Still, he couldn’t voice it. He nodded, watching himself, watching Sylvain’s eyes darken. 

Sylvain trailed kisses down his neck to his shoulder, gentle ones, nothing they hadn’t done before, but each kiss wound Felix’s nerves tighter. When Sylvain’s lips reached his arm, he took Felix’s hand and lifted it above his head, curling it so his arm framed his face. Somehow, Felix knew to hold on, and he threaded his fingers into his own hair. Sylvain let out a low hum, almost a purr, and Felix felt it where their bodies were flush. 

His heartbeat, or maybe Sylvain’s, filled his ears, blood rushing through his body at triple speed as Sylvain dipped his head to run his nose along Felix’s side. Repulsion and arousal fought for control once Felix realized what he was doing.

Sylvain was smelling his underarm.

Part of Felix wanted to put him in a headlock, but a larger part—the depraved side of him that only came out when he was alone with Sylvain—relished the attention. Just this once, Felix indulged that side, letting the excitement rush to his gut and groin. Sylvain’s nose tickled as it parted the soft hair, but Felix didn’t laugh. New sweat formed at his brow, where his hand was still wrapped tight, and Sylvain inhaled the fresh perspiration beneath his arm. The sound, the rush of air, made Felix tremble in anticipation. 

Felix should have closed his eyes, but he was fixed on the way Sylvain’s lips parted, the way Sylvain licked them. Felix didn’t breathe, his heart didn’t even beat until that profane tongue emerged and touched his skin. 

A wave rolled through Felix, pulsing hard and heat between his legs, not quite an orgasm but humiliatingly close. Unbothered, Sylvain laved at his dripping skin, lewd sound slipping out as he laid waste to Felix’s sanity. Only Sylvain could defile him like this; only Sylvain could lap up his sweat like it was nectar or some strange elixir, imbued with healing properties. 

Sylvain’s hands drifted no lower than Felix’s taut stomach, but oh, how Felix wished they would. He craved Sylvain’s touch beneath his skirt, inside him. He was a filthy liar just like Sylvain, but they’d make honest men of each other one day, tasting and traversing depths unknown, together.

For now, this was all Felix could handle, writhing against Sylvain, intimately aware of how much they both enjoyed it. 

“Felix?”

They both froze—Sylvain mid-lick—at the professor’s voice. Her footsteps grew louder, and Felix pushed Sylvain back. Sylvain released him without protest, arranging himself to hide the evidence of his arousal as Felix straightened his own hair and robes. 

“I’m not done with you, you know,” Sylvain said, his voice light. “You taste so good, I doubt I’ll ever be done with you.” 

“Good,” Felix shot back, forcing the words out to clear his throat. “Next time you can lick my ass.”

Sylvain was at his back in an instant, hands molded to the curve of his rear. “I’m holding you to that.”

With a firm squeeze, he slipped away into the hall, leaving Felix to simmer. If Sylvain passed the professor, it would be obvious: where he’d come from, what they’d been doing. Felix didn’t care. If his fate was to dance, then he and Sylvain were entitled to the spoils.

**Author's Note:**

> i haven’t stopped thinking about [mego’s pictures](https://twitter.com/avarice017/status/1294084764446552064?s=21) and i’m so happy they’re back up because they are so gorgeous i had to write about sylvain licking felix’s armpit!


End file.
